


Winter Solstice

by Epoxide (MiyuTanemura)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:36:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiyuTanemura/pseuds/Epoxide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the winter solstice.<br/>If he closed his eyes he could still hear his mother’s sweet voice.<br/><i>The Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year. Did you know, Bilbo? It means that the nature’s sleep is going to last for a little while yet, but that the possibility of waking and starting to see the green sprouting once again, Yavanna’s creations will soon wake. And in this long night it is also said that our prayers have more strength to be heeded.</i><br/>Then she would push back his rowdy curls and place a kiss on his forehead before tucking him in his bed and leaving. The voices of his parents would drift from the door, wishing him a good night and telling him how much they loved him.<br/>Now, in this room made of stone, Bilbo felt like those events might have been in another life, with all that had happened. He yearned for the comfort of the wood and the cosiness of his smial, his books and his own armchair by his own fireplace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Solstice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chamelaucium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamelaucium/gifts).



**Winter Solstice**

Bilbo entered the room slowly, his hands full, carrying the tray that held his meal. The tea was still hot and the bread was a bit on this side of stale already after a long day – and to Bilbo, it felt the same as if he were eating a feast back in the Shire. The room’s two inhabitants reacted to his entrance as was to be expected, one white haired head turned towards him and the other remained still. An unnerving stillness that had been lasting for too long, in Bilbo’s opinion. But Óin had said that thanks to the elves’ expertise the worst had been averted and all they had to do for the moment was to wait and try to have things remain stable.

The hobbit placed his tray on the small hand table that accompanied the single armchair that faced the fireplace. The fire was crackling happily, a flash of orange and warmth filling the too empty space, the sounds belying the liveliness. The deep ache that had settled on Bilbo’s chest seemed to grow heavier. With a sigh, Bilbo turned and headed towards the bed.

Balin had been keeping watch over Thorin for the whole afternoon and Bilbo had volunteered to take the night watch. A number of reports were scattered between Balin’s lap and the small bedside table, a small candle burning low in a niche on the wall beside the bed.

The old dwarf smiled tiredly at the hobbit before starting to bunch the reports into a tidy pile that he placed on the bedside table. Slowly, he got up, grunting a little at his old joints creaking due to cold and stiffness.

“There were no changes yet, laddie. I think that Óin said he would come here before going to sleep so you probably won’t be alone for too long.” The two exchanged a tiny smile about the old dwarf and his lack of hearing remembering the events from a previous night where the Company had been dining and hilarity had followed a misunderstanding by Óin. “And I think that I shall call it a night. These old bones aren’t what they used to be.” Balin had picked his reports and left the old padded chair beside the bed. The dwarf placed a heavy hand on the hobbit’s shoulder before leaving the room with a murmured, “Goodnight Bilbo.”

The door closed heavily and with what seemed like finality.

Bilbo let his breath whoosh out from his lungs before sitting down on the chair. He looked to the prone figure that lay on the bed. Thorin was asleep. His pale face streaked with lines that made him look that much older, even in sleep, showing the worries that did not ease even in the oblivion of sleep and the odd mark of scrapes that were basically healed. The old covers had been pulled up and only his head escaped the warm confinement brought by the bed sheets and blankets they had found in usable conditions. Bilbo did _not_ want to look under the covers. The worst of the wounds had been patched a few months ago but it still made Bilbo sick to his stomach; the depth of the wounds, the stench of blood and death, a weakening grasp on his hand, a harsh breath being pulled difficultly and a beloved voice saying parting words and asking for forgiveness. All that returned to Bilbo, pressing down on the hobbit every time that he had to help with the change of the bandages. Of course that he didn’t say anything, the Company was beyond busy helping keep Erebor afloat, since the three members of the direct royal family were recovering from the battle, and Dáin was being a precious help.

Bilbo gnawed on his lower lip as he looked at Thorin. Tentatively, he extended his hand and placed it on the bed, on top of the bump where the dwarf’s hand was.

“Come on, Thorin. It’s time to wake up.” The hobbit pleaded in a low voice before letting a sigh and deflating a small bit when no change occurred. He looked out the small window to the mostly dark moon. With slumped shoulders, Bilbo gave what passed as a squeeze to the lump on the bed before turning to the fireplace. He let himself slump on the edge of the armchair before looking down at the fire, the yellow flames dancing happily but starting to diminish. Bilbo placed another log and cleaned his hands on a small water basin on the corner of the room. Then he finally sat down, wearily, on the armchair, letting it engulf him and started with his meal. His mind couldn’t help but go to the events of the last weeks.

First, there had been that horrendous war. Bilbo still had difficulty taking in the immensity of the numbers that had been there. Too many men, elves and dwarves had lost their lives under the enormous wave of orcs and goblins and the ruthless weather that had crashed upon them not long after had helped with that too. It seemed to Bilbo like a harsh winter had crashed upon them, giving Bilbo some flashes of moments of what felt like another life, wolves and orcs voraciously striking the Shire, killing helpless hobbits. A shiver ran down Bilbo’s spine every time he thought about that. Both events forever connected in his mind and slowly creating a fear of the harsh cold deep within Bilbo.

But thankfully the elves had helped the few healers that were beyond overworked in the aftermath of the battle and so they were able to save more people – stubborn dwarven royalty included. When the weather conditions started to become too much for the tents, the survivors and injured were welcomed into Erebor. Dáin and Balin had had the forethought of sending dwarves to the mountain to check the conditions of the lower area of the city to see if it was possible to house the victorious armies. Thankfully, it was. And it didn’t take long to relocate most of the people, though the graver injured were the last ones to be taken, allowing the city to be in the beginnings of what passed by normal activity. There was warmth and shelter and, even if the food wasn’t plentiful, there was enough. Hopefully enough to allow them to survive a portion of winter. The Company had arranged for rooms for Thorin, Fíli and Kíli and they veiled over them without fail, juggling it with their new responsibilities. And Bilbo… Bilbo would share his time between Thorin and the boys and giving a hand in the provisory healing ward. And in this night, it was his turn to keep Thorin company.

All of a sudden, with a start, Bilbo looked out the window. He noticed how the moon seemed to have failed to appear and started doing some head calculations until he realized which night it was. In between the inky sky and the never ending whiteness of snow that covered the land.

It was the winter solstice.

If he closed his eyes he could still hear his mother’s sweet voice.

_The Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year. Did you know, Bilbo? It means that the nature’s sleep is going to last for a little while yet, but that the possibility of waking and starting to see the green sprouting once again, Yavanna’s creations will soon wake. And in this long night it is also said that our prayers have more strength to be heeded._

Then she would push back his rowdy curls and place a kiss on his forehead before tucking him in his bed and leaving. The voices of his parents would drift from the door, wishing him a good night and telling him how much they loved him.

Now, in this room made of stone, Bilbo felt like those events might have been in another life, with all that had happened. He yearned for the comfort of the wood and the cosiness of his smial, his books and his own armchair by his own fireplace.

The wood on the crate might smell and sound the same, it still cast the same orange glow and that light paint the walls. But the walls weren’t the right ones, he was dislocated from his rightful place, fearing for this dwarf that meant so much to him and that had, at the same time, hurt him so… it was lonely. It was scary.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Bilbo finished his meal and leaned back on the armchair, tucking his legs to the side, a blanket on his lap. He felt tired. His body was tired, his mind was tired. His very emotions were draining him. Before he knew it, he fell into a light doze, his last words to the silent room a small prayer for what mattered to him.

“Please, Yavanna, bring him back to me.”

* * *

Dark shadowy fingers elongated on the small room, the stone walls’ irregularities becoming all the more pronounced as the fire’s flames dwindled and became incandescent embers, emitting a glow that only lit the immediate surroundings.

Two shadowy figures appeared beside the bed, looking down at the figure that lay still.

The shorter, stouter one was shaking his head. The taller placed a hand on his shoulder and she gave him a smile.

“ _It’s his time. His greed has done enough already._ ” Said the male.

“ _But he redeemed himself, in the end. He saw the wrongness of his ways._ ” The woman said softly. “ _Don’t you think that he deserves another chance?_ ”

“ _Is the potential for good enough not to let him fall back on his ways? The Arkenstone still has a spell that is too strong over him, he may not be strong enough to overcome its beckon._ ” The man let his hand hover over the dwarf’s forehead.

“ _You’re the one that should know if he has what is necessary to overcome it, are you not?_ ” The woman tilted her head to the side, a challenge in her voice. Then she turned to the other room inhabitant. “ _Besides, I think that he’ll have_ friends _here to help him when things are more difficult._ ”

The man stood silent for a few moments before looking at the dwarf again and nodding.

“ _He has in himself what it takes to be successful. He strayed from the right path but at the end found his way again._ ” He let his outstretched hand stand above the dwarf’s chest. “ _That earns him a second chance._ ”

The woman walked until she was in front of Bilbo. She ran an ethereal hand over Bilbo’s hair, softly.

“ _And you, my dear, I know that your heart is pure. But it’s in danger of being tainted by darkness._ ” She sighed. “ _Do find a way to free yourself of the darkness, for the sake of many. Do find the strength in those you now call family, to ground you, to let you bloom. Do not give up, Bilbo Baggins._ ” With these words she turned to her husband and saw the dark plumes that emerged from the dwarf’s chest. Moments after, the dwarf’s breathing became calmer, more natural and she walked to embrace her husband. “ _Let us go now._ ”

“ _Yes. And we shall hope that they do get to forge the right path this time around._ ”

Their shapes disappeared slowly, impossible to discern from the darkness that slowly fell over the room.

* * *

Bilbo woke from his light doze, smiling at the silly dream he just had had. He threw another log to bring the fire back to life before going to check on Thorin.

What he saw made his mouth hang.

Thorin’s face was less pale, his breathing slower and the lines seemed to have eased, making him look more like the Thorin from before. Still a grumpy old dwarf but not so old-looking.

A smile sprouted on Bilbo’s lips, the first true one since… the hobbit didn’t remember.

The door behind opened and Bilbo turned to greet Óin. Deep in his being he thought that this nightmare was going to be over soon. He turned to Thorin again and whispered, “Hurry up and come back. It’s about time.”

And it was.

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** Hey! Long time no see, huh? But I’ve been thinking about Bagginshield… it seems like it’s one of my favourite things to daydream about – how to have these two being happy. ^^  
>  I haven’t seen the last movie yet but I’ve been rereading the book (even if I was thinking a bit more about the movie-verse when I wrote this) and, well, I’m at the end and just needed a quick fix-it to make me happy. And I know that the Solstice’s already past but, here it goes. ^^  
> That said, happy New Year to you all. May we continue with the happy stories. They’re just good for the soul.  
> My dearest Chamelaucium, this one’s for you while I finish the other story (that long promised one, haha… xD).  
> And my thanks to Bofursunboundbraids for making me think about the fluffy bit that I just had to add on the next chapter. It’s just a small drabble and hopefully will be up tomorrow. Either way, these two deserve all the fluff and happiness! :D  
> The story’s unbetaed.  
> Any comments would be awesome!


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